Читать книгу Bangalore - Roger Crook - Страница 2

The waiting begins.

When Pat woke the next morning it was to a soft knock on her bedroom door. Realising she was naked Pat scrambled to find the towelling bathrobe Alice had provided. All she could remember from the night before was that they had finished their meal, Angus had fetched her canvas holdall from her car, steered her towards her bedroom, given her a quick kiss on the cheek, said goodnight and opened the bedroom door for her. She didn’t remember undressing; getting into the big soft bed was the last thing she remembered.

There was another knock and as she pulled the robe around her Alice’s head appeared round the door. “Tea Pat, I took a guess and made it white with no sugar?”

“Thanks Alice. Have I slept in, what time is it?”

“Just after seven. No, you haven’t slept in. In case you’ve forgotten, today is Sunday so Angus is only just up. I think he was all tuckered out last night like you. He’s out on the veranda drinking tea; go and join him.”

“I need a shower first.”

“Go and join him. He’s just sitting there in shorts and tee-shirt. Drink your tea out there, then, have a shower while I get breakfast. Do you want something cooked? There’s plenty of fruit and cereals. I brought some fresh bread out from Carnarvon. Baking day is Tuesday after washday on Monday. Old habits you know, they never die.”

“Just fruit and cereals for me, Alice. I’m not vegetarian, that fillet last night was scrummy, but I don’t eat a lot of meat. I find it easier living on my own; buy it raw eat it raw, saves on the washing up.”

“Scrambled eggs? Guaranteed organic chooks.”

“What will Angus have?”

“Probably everything that you have plus scrambled eggs and bacon and piles of toast. I keep telling him that one day he’ll start putting weight on, but he doesn’t, like his father; thin as an old roo dog and eats enough for three.”

Alice motioned to the French windows leading out on to the veranda. “Go out that way. He’s just outside reading the papers I brought out from town. He doesn’t bother with papers much, only when I get them.”

Pat tied her robe, slipped the catch on the doors and stepped out on to the veranda. She could tell it was going to be a hot again, maybe more humid than the previous day. The evening thunderclouds were still there; now they were more active but silent in their mounting rage.

The west side of Bangalore was in the shade and the first thing Pat noticed was the scent from the hundreds of roses in the flower beds that, mixed with the scent from the biggest Frangipani she had ever seen, gave the morning a gentle and exotic freshness.

From a big high-backed cane armchair she heard, “Morning, Pat, lovely morning?”

Angus was lounging in the big chair. Faded blue tee-shirt and shorts, tousled uncombed hair, two days of black stubble flecked with grey. Arms and legs deeply tanned except for his feet, which, shaded from the sun by boots, were a creamy light tan. He looked rested and relaxed.

“Morning, Angus, this quiet, the smell of the roses, the gentle light is all a bit surreal; yesterday was so tumultuous.” She smiled as she sat in a chair opposite him, “Did I fall asleep at the table last night?”

“Nearly. I realised at one stage that I was talking to myself so I went and got your bag out of your car, showed you to your room pushed you inside, you mumbled goodnight and that was that. I then rang my father and to give him the news. He took it well and sent his best to you.”

Pat looked out on the lawns and the roses and then further out beyond the lawn to the carefully planted river red gums and white barked river gums, which provided a natural barrier between the garden and the wide expanse of the red dusty outback.

As she was looking, Angus started talking. “Somewhere in the office there are the original drawings of my great grandfather’s design, his vision of what he wanted the garden to look like. We’ve pretty much remained faithful to that vision, even the fountain was his idea but the best he could do was feed it from a cocky tank, you know, one up on a high stand. It worked all right but now I’ve put a little solar pump on it so it runs during the day and turns off at night. I can override it if we have guests and they want atmosphere here in this uninhabited land.” She looked at him and could see that he was smiling with eyebrows raised, almost mocking those who wanted to impose on his sanctuary.

“All these gardens, Angus, they must use a lot of water?” As she spoke sprinklers popped up on one section of the lawn and immediately attracted a few galahs and some little birds she didn’t recognise.

“Water is something that we have plenty of. How he did it, heaven knows. Imagine coming out here over a hundred years ago with nothing except a few horses, pack camels and camel carts and deciding, in mid-summer mind you, that this was the place. Some say there was a water diviner among the Afghans. Some say there was an old blackfella in the party as a guide and that he picked the spot. All I can find from the records, old Lachlan kept a detailed diary, is that they decided to dig a well right here on this spot not a hundred yards from where we are sitting; that was the first thing they did.

“It took three months to get through rock and shale. They felled and pit sawed timber to line the well as they went down and down. The diary says the first well, they dug two over the first five years, the first well was just over ten yards deep. Water started seeping into the hole and they worked all night to shore up as the water rose higher. By next morning it was just two yards from the top and it was perfectly pure crystal clear water.

“The next thing they did was build a bough-shed, which served as the first homestead. Then Lachlan went down to New Norcia and bought his first merinos. Put them on a sailing ship and brought them up to Carnarvon, and from there they walked two hundred ewes and a dozen rams all the way out here. It took them months and they didn’t lose a sheep. That was the start of Bangalore.” Standing up, he said, “Come on, I can smell breakfast. Time for a quick shower before Alice rings the bell.”

Standing in the shower letting the luxury of the hot water wash away some of the stiffness from her long drive Pat thought about Ewen and how like his father he was, certainly in looks anyway. The only difference she thought she could see was that Ewen had a hard driven streak that she hadn’t yet seen in Angus.

She’d never seen Ewen really relax. His idea of relaxation was a never-ending search for excellence, to be the best at everything he did, coming second was unacceptable. From what she’d seen of Angus, father and son were not the same. Then she thought of Ewen somewhere in hostile country, maybe dead, and her heart skipped a beat.

Angus was already in the breakfast room when she joined him. She’d changed into khaki shorts and dark blue tee-shirt and because all she had with her were her elastic-sided boots, she was barefoot.

Angus had showered and his normally curly black to grey hair was still wet and glistened, but he wore the same old tee-shirt and shorts he’d worn on the veranda and he hadn’t shaved. “Cereals, fruit, fresh bananas, mangoes all on the sideboard, help yourself, Pat. Toaster and bread there too; make your own in this house. Alice will be here in a minute with what you can smell cooking. Tea in the pot too, don’t drink coffee. There might be some old instant stuff around somewhere if you really want it.”

“No, tea is fine; do me good to get off the coffee for a while. I think I drink too much of it. It goes with the job is my only excuse.” She put a few cornflakes into a bowl, picked out a mango and turned to sit at the table and noticing it was set for three people, hesitated.

Without looking up from peeling another mango, Angus said, “Alice will claim that she is not a creature of habit but she always sits there,” pointing with his knife to the place on his left. “So you can sit anywhere you like so long as it is where you were last night.” He went on, “Pleased to see you have a mango, make the most of it. Alice is a closet mango eater. I bet there are a couple of trays in the cool room today, minus what we have here, but you watch; they’ll just disappear.”

The doors through to the hallway and the kitchen were open and Alice came in carrying a tray. “I heard every bit of that, Angus; I’m surprised you would mock someone for such a small weakness of character. It’s my only vice, Pat.”

“Except for Uncle Johnnie,” said Angus still looking at his mango trying to hide a smile.

Alice paid no attention to him. She rested the tray on the table, passed Angus his scrambled eggs and bacon, gave Pat her plate and then put her own down. As she went to put the tray back in the kitchen, in what Pat could only interpret as a genuine sign of affection, as Alice passed Angus she squeezed his forearm and he smiled at her.

Breakfast was an easy affair. Pat was conscious that Alice kept on steering the conversation away from any mention of Ewen. She talked about her great grandfather being a camel driver for Lachlan Sinclair and how they had started as man and servant and finished dying within weeks of each other as firm friends, inseparable to the end, it was said.

Alice pointed out her grandfather in one of the faded photographs with a group including Lachlan. Her grandfather was a tall thin angular man with a big moustache and what looked like arms too long and big for his body. As Pat studied the photograph, Alice said, “He was a big man, wasn’t he? Legend has it that he was so strong that nobody dared challenge him. I think he got his strength from loading and unloading camels from when he was a boy. It must have been so hard in those days.”

They heard the phone ring and Alice stood up and said, “I’ll get it, could be my niece having problems with the baby. Don’t know why she rings me. She’s had more children than I ever had.”

She returned almost immediately, “It’s for you, Angus. It’s Michelle.”

Without saying anything Angus picked up his mug of tea and went to the phone, shutting the breakfast room door behind him.

Alice looked at Patricia. “Now this has the potential to ruin what could have been a quiet day. Michelle gets under his skin. Even now after all this time. You won’t hear Angus shout or anything like that; if he gets upset he will just go away somewhere, in his study, down to the pool, somewhere just to be alone.”

Pat thought for a moment. “I suppose they have something in common at the moment, because of Ewen being missing. It must be hard on both of them. I know I keep on trying to push it out of my head but it’s not possible, Alice. How long have they been divorced?”

“Angus and Michelle? Ewen is what, thirty-two? That makes Rachael thirty. Michelle left here semi-permanently when Ewen was just a toddler, hardly walking. She would go away for months and leave Ewen and his sister, Rachael, here with me. She left permanently when Ewen was about seventeen, so about ninety-seven. She never liked it here from the day she became pregnant with Ewen, which by my calculations was on their wedding night. She wouldn’t divorce Angus until about six or seven years ago. Claimed she was a good Catholic and couldn’t. Then she met her rich lawyer and found she could. Settlement was a ragged affair. If it hadn’t been for Angus’ father having the foresight to tie things up, she could have succeeded in what I think was her aim, and that was to ruin Bangalore. They all became very bitter and wouldn’t talk for years.”

Angus came back into the room, his face expressionless. Looking at them both, he said, “I am not going to say anything that could be construed as derogatory. What Michelle had to say makes some sense. She thinks we should all be together for the next few days or so, or until we hear some news about Ewen. Hopefully it won’t be too long. She said she knew I couldn’t spare the time to be away from my precious Bangalore, quote unquote; then she told me she and Roderick Goldsmith, QC, are waiting at Perth airport now for Rachael, who is flying in from Sydney this morning. She will just have to walk from one terminal to the other and they will board Roddy’s new plane and they will be here at about two-thirty she thought for a late lunch, quote unquote again. Before you ask, Alice, no, she didn’t ask if it was convenient. You know Michelle.”

Pat was the first to speak. “I’d better get moving then; it sounds like a house full.”

For a split second Angus’ eyes flashed in anger but then he smiled. “You will do nothing of the sort. There is enough room in this house for at least a dozen in reasonable comfort. Anyway, you’re family and should be here. How much leave do you have?”

“One week from last Thursday – more if I want it.”

“Good. So you can stay?”

“I brought hardly any clothes.”

“You don’t need many clothes out here, by that I mean that jeans, tee-shirts, shorts and boots will do just fine and the washing machine is in the laundry. I’m sure Alice can find you a pair of sandals. There must be some of Rachael’s clothes around somewhere.”

Alice stood up. “Shall I put Michelle, Roderick and Rachael down in the south wing? It’ll be cooler down there for them. Rachael can have her old room.”

Angus nodded.

Turning to Pat she said, “Come with me, Pat. You can help me make up the beds. It’s easier with two. We’ll get some towels from the linen closet. The sooner we start the sooner we finish. Then I have to think about lunch and dinner for five. I’ll eat on my own tonight I think. Angus, will you clear up the breakfast dishes and put them in the washer and turn it on?”

Angus nodded again, knowing full well that once Alice had a head of steam up, there was no room for ifs or buts, so he started clearing away the dishes.

The phone rang as Alice and Pat were getting fresh sheets and towels out of the linen cupboard in the hall; Alice picked up the phone and said, ‘Bangalore’. She listened for a moment and handed the phone to Pat. “I think it’s your Commanding Officer.”

Pat took the phone. “Pat Fawcett here.”

“Hello, Pat. Harry here. I tried your mobile so I thought you must be up there. How are you?”

“Fine, Harry. I’m with Ewen’s dad; got here yesterday.”

“I have some news, Pat. I’m a bit limited in what I can say because there’s a bit of a flap on. The first thing is, and we don’t know how it happened, but Captain Ewen Sinclair’s face will be all over the international newspapers in the morning together with the beginning of the story of the mission he was on. It first appeared in Pakistan, then the Arabic News Services picked it up, then it was all over the world. The Australian Defence Force press corps has gone into damage control. They had no way of stopping it here once it was on the Internet. We are very suspicious considering the nature of the operation. I can’t say any more at this stage. Looks as if we will have to manage it, and leave it to the Intelligence people to find out how the bloody news got out. Apologise to his parents for me will you? More importantly, the press and others may well contact them in the near future, they need to be aware. I expect the shit to hit the fan quite soon.

“Now for the good news. We had contact from the group yesterday. They are all together again. They estimate they should be in safer country by nightfall. They have two of their party on makeshift stretchers and they are being pursued. No details. Once we get a firm position, and we know they can stay within the vicinity, we should have them out at first light tomorrow morning their time, earlier if we can, but as you know, it’s not easy up there. If we evacuate them at first light we will be able to send some assistance in with the evacuation team. If we have to evacuate them at night, then it will be more difficult. They are four hours behind us, so that with luck, if they go in the dark, the evacuation team will be in the air sometime after midnight our time or around then. Sorry I can’t be more specific. I’ve tried to ring Ewen’s mother at home and on her mobile, but all I get is answering machines and her message bank. Is she with you?”

“She’ll be here this afternoon; she’s flying up.”

“Good. You tell her then, and his father, please. I’ll ring this number as soon as we have something definite. I've probably said more than I should on an open phone; I just hope I am in front of the ‘mob’. That phone will get busy very soon. Don’t worry about your unscheduled leave – that’s all covered and squared away. Stay positive, Pat. Speak to you soon. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Harry.” Before she could say ‘thanks’ the connection went dead.

Angus and Alice were watching her as she put the phone down. She told them what she had been told, especially about the publicity concerning Ewen, and added, “That means they were over the border in Pakistan and soon they will be back in Afghanistan. It’s a difficult choice they have, whether to evacuate them under cover of darkness or wait until first light. They will have to take an escort, probably Apaches, but the terrain is difficult and the evacuation team will stand a better chance of finding them in daylight. Conversely they will present a better target if the enemy is close.” With an air of resignation she said, “All we can do is wait.”

“And pray,” Alice added.

Pat then looked at them both, her expression was serious and she seemed to have gone pale, she didn’t take her eyes off Angus as she spoke.

“My CO says there has been a ‘stuff up’ as he put it. Ewen’s photograph with a story of the crash has gone viral on the world media. They, the ADF, don’t know how it happened. They say the story first appeared on an Arabic radio with the name, then television with the pictures, then the Internet and before anyone could even try to stop it, it was all over the world. They couldn’t stop the press coverage once it was on the Internet. The origin of the story was apparently from sources beyond their control. It is not NATO and certainly not Australian policy to release personal details of our Special Forces. My CO was really telling me there has been a serious security breach. He says we may get other visitors, not just from the press; he didn’t say from whom or from where. He asked me to apologise to you all on behalf of the ADF.”

Angus was the first to speak. Alice, looking apprehensive, stood quite still. “ Pat, any idea what is behind this security breach? What does that mean?”

“All I know, Angus, is that great care is taken to ensure the identities, especially of our Special Forces personnel, are kept secret. That is why when you see them on television they are wearing something that covers their faces – usually balaclavas – or their faces are blurred out. I have no experience so I am just assuming that once the pictures of Ewen were all over the Internet, then the Australian press ran with it. If someone like Reuters or another big news agency ran it, again I am presuming, the Australian press would have assumed it was okay. Again, I don’t know but I would imagine the ADF are trying to put a lid on it now but it’s probably too late. Not much they can do if it’s on Fox News and in the Sun newspaper in the UK, and of course all over the Internet. I suppose, depending on what kind of mission they were on in Pakistan, Ewen’s face will be plastered all over the media and there will now be a mass of speculation.”

Now Alice spoke. “Pat, they hide their identity to try and prevent reprisals?”

“Yes and no. These men are covert operators. You cannot be covert if your picture is in the paper – well, it makes it more difficult. Sometimes these men operate in civilian clothes here in Australia. They may be on duty when foreign diplomats or leaders visit if the AFP needs extra help. In Afghanistan they may well be dressed like the locals. I am not being clever, but covert means just that, and this is a war on terror, a war that relies on intelligence gathering by people who are…well… covert.”

Angus asked, “What will this mean for Ewen?”

“I have no idea, Angus. He’s probably in the safest place on the planet right now. Let’s just see what develops; nothing has changed. We will tell the others when they get here. Honestly, I am as much in the dark as to what might happen as you are. The ADF will try and persuade the papers to let it slide, but I don’t like their chances. There is nothing the ADF can do about the Internet or the foreign press. The best we can hope for is that something more important crops up and the press concentrates on that. It may well blow over in a couple of days.”

Alice sighed and said, “Well, Pat, we had better get on with what we started. It looks as if we are in for difficult times.”

The South Wing, or Madam President’s Quarters, as Angus later called it after his ex-wife, comprised two small single bedrooms, a double bedroom, a small comfortable lounge and a big bathroom with two showers.

All the rooms were furnished with old comfortable furniture that Pat thought were probably antiques. As she and Alice made up the beds Alice gave her the history.

“Angus’ grandfather added this wing. It was built so the next generation, in this case Angus’ father and family, could get away from the grandparents. So Angus and Michelle used it when they got married and I think Michelle hated it. She hated not having the run and control of the whole house. She had to wait her turn to be the lady of the manor; she never made it though.” She looked at Pat across the double bed as they folded in the sheets and with a perfectly straight face added, “So I’m sure she will be comfortable in here.”

As they left the South Wing, Alice said, “Pat will you please remind Angus to put some white wine to cool?”